Dangerous Ballroom
by frostygossamer
Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa! BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean&Ruby2 mild slash COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa!  
>BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean+Ruby2 mild slash<p>

A/N: I thought I would post something for Hallowe'en, seeing as it's big is the US. They didn't have it here in Britain when I was a kiddie.

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><p>Dangerous Ballroom by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>My name is Bobby Singer, and it's been my privilege to know and work with the great Sam Winchester. That guy is one tough, rough, macho hunter. He spits, growls, shoots, throws fists and generally causes mayhem to the supernatural, and then asks questions later.<p>

Sam hunts alone. Some people would call him a lone wolf. He's been a holy terror to goddamn monsters all over the USA, since he was five years old. I may have been something of a hunter myself, but I know that in no way could I match up to the magnificent stature of the big man from Lawrence, Kansas.

I would do any and everything in my power to help Sam Winchester, if Sam ever needs my help, which he seldom does. Sam really never needs anyone. He's a one-man monster killing tidal wave.

His late dad, John, was my good friend. He raised his only kid in the life. When he finally fell to some nasty spawn of damnation, Sam hunted the damned thing down within the week and annihilated it remorselessly in twenty different ways.

Ever since John's passing, Sam Winchester has been a loner, hard, dark and scary. Sam Winchester is unstoppable, and I'm proud to call him my friend.

.oOo.

Right now Sam Winchester is between monster killings. He's feeling bored and sick of cracking his knuckles and hanging out in sleazy bars looking tough. So when his old compadre, Bobby, calls him with a heads-up about a little job that's come to him down the grapevine, he's damn glad.

In the little city of Strictly, stands the Old City Hall, a stately last century building of awesome architecture. Now superseded by the new City Hall, it's currently used as a venue for public entertainment. And they have a problem, a supernatural problem.

Old City Hall has ghosts like other buildings have mice. Shadowy shapes have been spotted. People have been scared. Objects, and at least one girl, have gone missing. Innocents are getting hurt.

That's what really makes Sam's blood boil. He loads up his artillery in his trusty black Chevrolet Impala, and burns rubber heading out to eradicate those supernatural scum.

.oOo.

It is supposed to be the highlight of the state Latin Ballroom calendar. Dean is fully expecting to nail the gold this year. He also expects to nail every gorgeous babe in the freaking championship.

He admires his reflection in the dressing room mirror. Slick in slim slacks and gold shirt slashed to the navel, a little body glitter on the pecs. Awesome! Chicks will be falling at his feet. At least they will be if they don't keep on disappearing.

Dean's reason for taking up ballroom in the first place was as a way of getting his hands on women, slim, fit, sexy, slightly orange women. And there isn't a whole lot of competition. Let's just say some of the guys in this thing are more ladylike than the chicks. But things aren't going exactly to plan.

Already several of the lovelies he had his eye on have vanished with a variety of lame excuses from the organizers. That sassy blond Jo dropped out when her mom got shot, would you believe? Classy but bitchy Bela's Visa has apparently run out. Lisa has run on home after problems with her kid's sitter. Jessica has just plain disappeared overnight. All reasonable excuses but, to Dean, something smells like a cover-up.

Then there's Ruby. Ruby is Dean's dance partner. Granted the little brunette looks pretty damn hot in a wisp of scarlet satin and golden sequins. And her moves, they're timed to perfection, controlled, precise.

They make a great team on the dance floor, oozing sex so hot you can practically toast buns on it. But, off the floor, Ruby oozes poison. She's the bane of Dean's life and one chick he would happily have disappear anytime.

Even Ruby isn't immune to the bleed of talent. She's seen something in the hallway, something dark, indistinct and fast as hell. She's beginning to talk about splitting. Something very strange is going on, and it's putting Dean off his cha-cha-cha.

.oOo.

When Sam draws up outside Old City Hall, and steps down from the Impala, he blows out a whistle of disgust. A statewide Ballroom Dancing championship? Seriously? Like he needs a crowd of crimped haired, sequin-clad mincesses impeding his investigations.

Sam snorts in derision. OK, so he'll do a recon of the place and then he'll come back later tonight, when the place is empty, to grab a proper look.

Inside the venue, the foyer teams with 'resting' dancers practicing figures and fiddling with their shoes and hairdos. Sam threads his way between, attracting little attention except a few admiring glances from pouty females in ghastly makeup.

A few of the sleek bitches in dental floss outfits can't help but catch his eye, but the girly men in Marcel waves and lycra catsuits turn his stomach. Guys like that, he thinks, should be ashamed to call themselves male.

Sam scopes the building without finding anything concrete to latch onto, except a faint EMF reading here and there in the dressing rooms. Before he leaves he stops in to watch the dancers from the back of the main hall.

.oOo.

The pairs of dancers take to the floor five or six couples at a time. It takes Sam a few seconds to register which girls and boys match up. But then he realises they are conveniently colour-coded.

It's quite impressive, he has to admit, the way the dancers weave in and out, never losing their partner's rhythm, never interfering with other couples. They twitch and writhe in sync with the music, perfectly timed movements perfectly executed.

Sam's novice eyes can't separate them. How the hell the judges choose between them, he can't guess. They all nail their moves, as far as he can tell. They could have been zombies or clockwork, except for one stand-out couple.

A petite, olive-skinned dark-haired chick, in a skimpy red and gold bikini with a bit of fringe, struts towards him, her dark eyes blank with concentration. She spins sharply on her dancing heals and shimmies back the way she came, wriggling her cute little ass, into the arms of a damn good-looking guy in gold lame.

"Now that guy", Sam thinks, "is built for dancesport not the usual limp-wristed prancer. He looks kinda outta place here."

But there's something about these two pressed together skin-close that makes Sam's battered heart miss a beat. He swallows and silently cusses. When you're as tough as Sam Winchester there's no place in your life for beauty.

"Pull yourself together, man", he chides himself inwardly. "There are some things a hunter can never have, some things he's better off without. Put your damn tongue away."

They're a beautiful couple, and Sam guesses that's worth a few extra points on an otherwise even field. And he's right. He watches the couple leave the hall and then returns his attention to the dance floor, where new couples replace the last batch and begin their own swaying and stalking.

But now he's bored. He decides he might as well leave, go get himself some food maybe, and then come back later, much later, when all this hullabaloo has packed up and gone home for the night. Then he can have the whole place to himself to hunt fuglies.

Sam is nearly out of the door when there's a sudden shriek from the direction of the dressing rooms.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa!  
>BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean+Ruby2 mild slash<p>

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><p>Dangerous Ballroom by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Sam races to the source of the scream, weapon drawn, heart pounding. The girl in scarlet and gold is in her room, shaking like a leaf. Sam arrives just in time for her to faint into his manly arms. He slaps her face until she comes round. He needs to question her.<p>

"What in the holy hell just happened?", he demands.

She looks up at this handsome man who's just appeared from nowhere and gives a pathetic sob.

"I just got back to my room. I sat down and closed my eyes to rest them just for a moment. Then I heard a faint creak of the floorboards just behind me. I span around quickly and there was something there. Something black and hairy with teeth and claws and malevolence in its red gimlet eyes. It tried to grab at me, but I screamed hard as I could and it ran."

"Where'd it go?", Sam asks, checking her over carefully for injuries.

"I... I dunno, honey", she admits, melting against him. "Didn't go out the door. It just vanished back there, behind the costume rails."

Sam is finding the scantily clad girl pressed against his body distracting. He leaves her and rummages amongst the rails. There's nothing there now, so he returns to comfort the girl.

Not that a chick like Ruby really needs comforting. She's more angry than upset. But she's not above milking the situation to win the sympathy of a goddamn handsome stud like Sam. She slips her phone number into his breast pocket and gives it a pat.

"Just in case you need to ask me any more questions later tonight, honey", she explains with a wink.

Right then her partner appears at her side.

"Dean, where the hell were you when I needed you, huh?", she whines.

"Ruby! What happened, babe?", he asks trying to take her hand and comfort her. She snatches it back petulantly.

"Don't 'babe' me", she complains. "Some bastard thing with fangs and goddamn claws has tried to kill me. I'm damn lucky my hunky hero was here. Coz otherwise I'd be dead right now."

This is kind of an exaggeration, seeing as Sam didn't get to her until the thing was already gone. But she really loves to bitch at Dean.

Dean glances up at the giant guy holding his partner in his protective arms. His unkempt floppy dark hair frames a face whose lines and creases speak of grit and determination. Ruby looks like a little girl in his muscular embrace.

He's got to be a head taller than Dean and, even though Dean generally feels confidently macho compared to the regular pantywaists he meets in this dog-and-pony show, this guy makes him feel like a lightweight. And he has to admit the big guy is annoyingly attractive.

Sam lets go his charge and draws himself up to his full towering height.

"Get this woman outta here", he commands Dean. "Take her someplace safe, while I chase up this 'apparition'. OK?"

Dean eyes him suspiciously. "So who died and put you in charge?", he challenges. "And who the hell are you anyways?"

Sam growls in irritation. "The guy who knows what he's talking about", he snaps.

Dean nods reluctantly and lifts a protesting Ruby out of her chair into his arms, and disappears with her into another dressing room farther up the corridor.

Meanwhile Sam drags the costume racks and assorted boxes off of the back wall, and begins to check for escape routes. Half hidden behind a canvas closet, he finds a ragged hole in the wall big enough for a creature, such as Ruby described, to pass through. Not a ghost this then but a very physical nasty.

Sam boldly widens the hole some, smashing the wall with the butt of his gun, pulls out his pocket flashlight and shines it up and down the intramural space. There is nothing to see, just an empty cavity beyond. He makes to enter the wall space but suddenly there is that guy, Dean, at his elbow.

"Stay the hell back", Sam grumbles. "Just take care of the damn women."

But curious Dean isn't so easily put off.

"Look, Rambo", he complains. "It's MY friend who's gotten scared. I'm coming with. OK?"

Sam notices that he uses the word 'friend' not 'girlfriend' or whatever. So Ruby and he aren't an item, not that kind of partners. Sam hesitates but, despite himself, he finds he has to like the guy's spirit.

"OK", Sam agrees. "But keep low and stay alert. I don't know exactly what we're gonna find in here."

.oOo.

The two men climb through into the narrow space inside the wall. Sam checks back and forth again with his flashlight. He decides either way is an even bet, so he hands the flashlight to Dean and starts forward pistol at the ready.

After a couple minutes. "So what do they call you?", Sam whispers.

"Dean", Dean replies quietly. "Dean Smith."

Sam grunts in acknowledgement. "Winchester. Sam Winchester", he says.

"Hi, Sam", Dean returns, trying to keep the mood light.

Sam ignores him. Two hundred yards and four turns further on, Sam almost trips over something in the dark. Dean quickly points his flashlight down at the offending object. It's a skull, a human skull, and a torn rag of sparkly fabric.

"Jeez!", Dean gasps through his teeth. "What the fuck?"

Sam automatically shoots out a protective arm, pushing Dean against the wall behind him.

"Shush", he hisses dramatically. "Looks like we got a man-eater. Now we know what happened to the missing chick."

"Chicks", Dean corrects him. "At least four I know about."

Sam snarls. If there's one thing Sam can't stand it's innocents getting hurt. "OK, maybe we found its nest. Keep back and stay quiet."

He grabs the flashlight back and carefully peers around the next corner, gun trained.

Nothing.

Sam puts his gun back in his belt and begins to examine the area for traces. A few bones, teeth marks, claw marks, scat, stuff he can use to identify just what he is dealing with.

Dean's suddenly right by him again, face flushed with exhilaration.

"Got away, huh?", he asks.

"For now", Sam replies with a sneer. "Didn't I tell you to keep back?"

"You gotta be kidding", Dean grinned.

Sam shakes his head incredulously. "Civilians", he grumbles.

.oOo.

When they climb back out the wall, one of the competition officials has turned up to see what's going on. Sam tells him to get the hole in the wall mended and seal up the room.

"Rats", he explains. "Goddamn bigass rats."

The guy looks shocked. "I... I guess we should call the exterminator then, huh?"

"No need. I'm gonna deal with your little problem for ya. That's my line of business", Sam assures him firmly.

The official scuttles away muttering "Giant rats! Heck, that's all we need" to himself.

The guy kinda reminds Sam of a rodent somehow. Sam turns to Dean and Ruby, and he smiles down at them.

"Take good care of the little lady, Dean", he tells him. "By tomorrow this thing'll be history, and you guys can get on with your little dance-off. OK?"

Dean nods, and he and Ruby gather their stuff and leave. Sam baggies his spoor and returns to the foyer. He grabs his cell from his pocket and rings Bobby.

"Bobby", he says. "OK, I've checked out the place. And it's not a ghost problem. It's a monster problem."

"Oh, yeah?", Bobby replies. "So what kinda freak we talking?"

"I'm gonna send you some images. I got skeletal remains. Tooth and claw marks. It's a man hunter."

"Satan's Suspenders!", Bobby retorts. "Gotta get those folks outta there ASAP."

"Heard ya", Sam replies. And with that he smashes the nearby fire alarm and quits the building.

TBC

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><p>AN: Tomorrow I'm going to the dentist and the next day I'm getting radioiodine. So I'll post more when I can.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa!  
>BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean+Ruby2 mild slash<p>

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><p>Dangerous Ballroom by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>After a couple hours in his motel room researching the new prey online, Sam has a shortlist of possibles. There's a lot of things out there that eat human flesh. You'd be surprised. Old City Hall must look like an all-you-can-eat buffet to fiends like that.<p>

He is still tracking down options when his cell rings. It's Bobby.

"Hi, Bobby. Got anything for me?", he asks. "I got choices here."

"Yeah, Sam", Bobby answers. "I got good leads this thing's a Troglodyte."

"A what?", Sam splutters. "You mean like a Caveman? I'm hunting Fred goddamn Flintstone?"

"Hell no, Sam", Bobby replies gravely. "Troglodytes were an ancient species of humanoid who lived in deep caves and holes. They came out at night and raided human villages, stealing food and, apparently, sometimes even snatching kids. They weren't exactly the worthy citizens of Bedrock."

"Crap. They ate kids? !", Sam snarls.

Bobby sighs. "Well, they weren't freakin adoptin 'em, idjit."

"And you really think one could still be around today?"

Papers rustle as Bobby's end of the line.

"Sam, I've had a look-see at the plans of Old City Hall. There's a mess of service tunnels underneath, and it's built right over an old drift mine that runs in from the north. It's been sealed for years, but it hooks up with a deep cavern system to the south east, right under downtown. I reckon you'll find what you're looking for down there."

"OK, Bobby", Sam agrees. "Seems like I'm gonna do me some spelunking tonight."

"Take care, boy", Bobby signs off.

Sam decides to wait until nightfall before he goes back to the venue to hunt trog. He wants to be sure there'll be no innocent bystanders around to get themselves hurt. So he lays down on his bed and tries to grab an hour's shuteye.

In the dark space behind his eyelids, Sam watches that beautiful couple he met today sashay, dip and prowl. He shakes his head to dismiss those beguiling images, and he sighs, long and hard. Some dreams are not for a guy like Sam Winchester.

.oOo.

Late that evening Sam dodges the low level security and late night stragglers in the otherwise deserted building. He enters the service tunnels with silver and salt rounds loaded ready, just to cover every option, and brandishing his heavy duty flashlight.

What he needs to find is the breach in the tunnel, through which the pesky trog has made his entry into the modern world. In less than an hour, he finds a small hatch cover to an electrical junction box hanging crumpled and loose from its hinges.

He eases it open and runs his flash over it. The wiring within has been almost completely gnawed away, perhaps by rats, perhaps not. Sam notes that he hasn't seen any rats down here so far, not one. He can guess why not.

The back of the box is missing and beyond he gets a glimpse of a section of the old drift mine tunnel. Sam puts his pistol and shotgun through the hole, and then stretches his long body to slide it through the slim gap into the abandoned mine. It's a tight squeeze on his broad manly shoulders.

.oOo.

Once in the drift mine, Sam pulls himself to his feet and glances up and down the passageway. To his right the excavation rises slightly, to his left it falls away gradually. That's the direction he needs to go.

After two hundred yards the tunnel splits in two, one half carrying on directly, the other half veering to the left and travelling deeper. Just as Sam is considering which route to choose, he hears a faint scraping noise in the dark behind him. He switches off his flashlight and cocks his pistol, holding his breath.

As Sam listens intently, he hears what sounds like a muffled curse and spots the beam of a small flashlight cut the darkness. He lowers his weapon and switches his light back on, shining it straight into the face of...

Dean.

"What in the hell are YOU doing here?", Sam demands.

Dean, dazzled by the light, holds his arm up to shield his eyes. He's wearing tight jeans and a black shirt with a few more buttons undone than strictly necessary.

"Don't any of these guys know how to do up a shirt?", Sam wonders.

"That you, Sam?", Dean asks with a grin. "Just had to come along and see what was going down here", he explains.

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. "You need to mambo on outta here", he insists. "Don't need a tenderfoot getting in my way, Dude. I got 'exterminating' to do. OK?"

"Oh, come on, Big Guy", Dean wheedles. "Two pairs of eyes are better than one. I got my gun. And it's even loaded", and he waves the weapon in the air to demonstrate.

"Never fuck around with a loaded weapon", Sam growls angrily.

Dean lowers his gun and makes an apologetic face.

"So what we doing, Boss Man?", he asks, ingratiatingly.

"WE are doing nothing", Sam insists.

"Well hell, Dude, I'm not going back now", Dean declares. "I'll wait here, and if that thing gets by you I'll drop it, OK?"

Sam considers. He isn't sure whether Dean is stupidly brave or bravely stupid but, if the trog were to double back and get past him, this novice might just turn into its next pretty victim.

He sighs in resignation. "OK, stick with me. But be quiet and stay behind me, y'hear? I don't wanna gank YOU by mistake."

"Gank?", Dean asks, puzzled by the unfamiliar word.

"Kill your ass", Sam supplies sourly.

"Oh. Sure", Dean agrees, grinning broadly.

Sam cusses inwardly, thinking, "This guy is enjoying this thing WAY too much."

.oOo.

Sam elects the left-hand branch tunnel. The two men proceed further into the mine, at each branch taking the one with the more downward gradient. Sam, who's done this kind of thing many times before, has the presence of mind to place a mark on the wall whenever they make a choice, so that they can find their way back in a hurry. A hunter can never be too cautious.

After about a half a mile, the tunnel suddenly breaks through into a high vaulted space, and they find themselves on the threshold of an impressive natural cathedral. Sam's flashlight is swallowed by the size of the chamber, its mossy walls reflecting little or nothing back.

There is a very faint lichen fluorescence in the cave, barely detectable, and as Sam's eyes try to adapt to the glow, he notices two small fiery red eyes staring back at him, unblinking.

Sam crouches suddenly and Dean nearly trips over him. The hunter shushes and pushes him down against the wall of the tunnel. Through his forearm Sam can feel Dean's heart racing as fast as his own.

"It's in there", Sam whispers hoarsely. "Stay here and I'll deal with the sonovabitch."

Dean answers, cheekily, "You the boss."

TBC

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><p>AN: So yesterday I get a humongous filling, then the dentist decides I need to go to the hospital and have it taken out anyway. And today I got radioactive! Seriously, I can't sit beside anyone for a fortnight. But the plus is in two days I can eat FISH again. Yay, I'm gonna STUFF myself with cod and chips on Sunday!


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa!  
>BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean+Ruby2 mild slash<p>

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><p>Dangerous Ballroom by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Sam fires a shot into the chamber, It echoes around the cave like a machinegun volley. There's an animal cry of pain from the creature and the echo of its body dropping to the floor, followed by a pathetic mewling.<p>

Sam runs into the cave. He wants this thing dead, sure, but he doesn't need it to suffer. He may be a hard man but he's not a monster. He means to put the thing out of its misery. But he's underestimated the little devil. It's not a dumb beast after all. It's a humanoid, of sorts, and it's been clever.

Out of the darkness surrounding him, dozens of wild-eyed and blood-crazed trogs descend on him as a pack. Sam's flashlight is knocked from his hand and kicked away, where its beam illuminates a small boring rock on the far side of the chamber.

Sam fires his shotgun randomly into the dark, muzzle flash illuminating grotesque faces, before its grabbed from his grasp. He's gripped by the sudden panicky fear that he's trapped in some sort of nightmare involving midgets. And that fear gives him a surge of adrenaline, lending him the strength to fling most of the little bastards off of him.

He draws his pistol and struggles to grab up his light again, to see what the hell he's firing at. What he sees is Dean trussed up and hanging by his feet from a rock outcrop. The trogs gather around the dancer menacingly, dodging the dazzle of Sam's flash.

Damn it, Sam knew this would happen, the idiot amateur hero has gotten himself into trouble, and Sam is gonna have to save his pretty ass. He knows he'll never forgive himself if Dean gets hurt. Something about the guy makes the hunter feel unexpectedly protective of him.

Sam growls angrily, the menace in his voice echoing around the chamber like the roar of a riled up grizzly.

The trogs visibly quake at the ferocity of the sound, but one trog, one just a little bigger and woollier than the rest, dares to snarl back at him. The others rally to his lead. Maybe he's the chief of this little tribe and he's not so easily scared, this one, because he has something to prove.

Sam can't shoot the thing down, it's standing far to close to Dean, so he fires into the air over its head. The shot ricochets off of the roof dangerously, and Captain Caveman careers toward him ragged teeth and claws bared.

He takes a pot-shot, but the shaggy miscreant is moving too fast, and his shot misses when something hits him a heavy blow to the back of the head. The flashlight is grabbed, smashed and stamped on by his smelly assailant. The trogs start to snicker malevolently, damn them, and close in on the wounded hunter.

Sam has some nasty bites on his arms, wounds on his legs that hurt like a bitch, and he's close to passing out from the bump on his head. His vision muzzy, he throws Dean his knife. The dancer, lithe as a snake, easily twists his body upward and cuts himself down.

Dean flings himself on the floor of the cave, and scrabbles around desperately until he finds his gun and pocket flashlight in the dust. He swings its tiny piercing beam into Cavey's whiskery little face. Then "BAM!" a bullet hits it smack between the eyes. It falls like a sack of gravel onto Sam, and its minions flinch back with a collective "Ooh!" of shock.

Dean grabs Sam out from under the flea-bitten carcass and drags him back towards the cavern entrance, firing wildly, hitting some. But more of the little brutes are flooding into the cavern from the deeper caves, keen to join in the party.

Once they're outside the cavern, Sam remembers the grenade he brought along just in case. Dean eyes it nervously.

"Won't that bring this whole place down on our freakin heads?", he asks doubtfully.

"Nah", Sam assures him, a little groggy. "The mine maybe, but those caves are old as time. All this'll do is blow the crap outta Barney and Betty."

He pulls the pin and throws it into the chamber and then the two guys haul ass out of there fast. They run and stagger all the way back to where they got into the mine. Dean wriggles sinuously through the hatch into the service tunnels and drags a dopey Sam through after him. They pull a metal cabinet over the hole and lean against it. Both men sink to the floor panting.

.oOo.

Dean is grinning like an idiot.

"That was fun", he remarks. "Yeah. I know. We coulda died back there. But, man, my heart is dancing a freakin rumba, quick-quick-slow quick-quick-slow. I've never gotten a rush like that before."

Sam grunts in reply.

"You OK?", Dean asks solicitously. "You got some nasty bites there, Dude. Hope you've had all your shots, man."

"Part of the job", Sam drawls, a bit of a grin trying to break through. "Thanks, man. I woulda bought it tonight..."

"Anytime", Dean says, patting the big man's knee. "So what now?"

Sam leans his head back against the cabinet, suddenly very tired, and places his big strong hand on Dean's.

"Now I make a call", he says, and he takes out his cell and calls Bobby.

"Hi", Bobby's worried voice answers. "Sam, you OK? What's going down there, boy?"

"We're fine", Sam assures him. "But this trog problem just multiplied. Looks like it's not one trog. More like hundreds. It's like goddamn Cobblestone County down here. You need to call in reinforcements, Bobby. It's gonna take manpower for this one."

"Lucifer's Long Underwear!", Bobby growls at the bad news. "I'm right on it, Sam. I'm gonna ring around the guys and see how many hunters I can get on this thing. We're gonna need everyone we can git. Just sit tight there, boy", then he pauses. "And who's 'we'?"

"Oh, just a civilian who kinda saved my life, is all", Sam explains. "The guy has the makings of a good hunter."

Overhearing this, Dean smiles to himself. He guesses that's some compliment from a veteran like Sam.

Bobby chuckles. "Well, thank him from me", he says. "Sam Winchester would be one helluva loss to mankind."

Sam shakes his head and flips his cell closed.

"Things are gonna get bloody around here, man", he tells Dean. "Think it's time you got your ass outta here. OK?"

"Don't need worry about me, Dude", Dean replies. "I can handle myself."

"Sure I do", Sam insists. "You've already seen enough action. I don't want you getting hurt tonight."

He gently squeezes Dean's shoulder, and it gives Dean a strangely warm feeling inside. He's disappointed not to be in on the fun, but he eventually leaves at Sam's insistence.

An hour later truckloads of hunters start to descend on Old City Hall.

TBC

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><p>AN: As I post this I can here some early Guy Fawkes' Night bangers going off outside. But I think I'm gonna stick to the sausage variety myself. I was hoping I'd be glowing a bit with this radiation, but the nurse told me I wasn't even going to get superpowers. What a bummer. Seriously. They have that in the FAQs.


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa!  
>BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean+Ruby2 mild slash<p>

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><p>Dangerous Ballroom by frostygossamer<p>

* * *

><p>The next morning Sam emerges from the basement bruised, bitten, bloody and beat. He barely gets back to his motel in time to crash out on his bed, and he's snoring before his head hits the pillow.<p>

He dreams about Troglodytes, big trogs, small trogs, guy trogs, chick trogs, trogs in sequins, trogs in lame, trogs tripping the light fantastic on the dance floor, trogs gyrating erotically together. Gross! He wakes up in a cold sweat.

God, that's freaking obscene. So he tries to go back to sleep, thinking of something more appealing than the Slag Brothers' samba, like that foxy chick Ruby.

Ruby has a beautiful face. In fact she's devilishly gorgeous head to toe, and sexy, sure, and flexible, very flexible. They're both so damn flexible, supple, pliable, bendy even. How the hell did that guy get so bendy? That guy Dean, he's got a wicked goddamn smile...

Sam sleeps like a rock until noon. Then he packs up and jumps into his Impala ready to hit the road once again. Another job well done. Another bunch of innocents saved.

That is his lot, after all, to fight evil alone, to turn up in some God forsaken town, gank the monsters, exorcise the phantoms and leave without pay, without credit, even without thanks. Such is his lonely life.

There's not much beauty in Sam's life, not much companionship, not much love. He's always known there's no place in a hunter's life for some delicate little female. And that sucks!

But maybe it doesn't have to be that way?

.oOo.

Sam pulls over and fishes Ruby's number out of the glove compartment, where he tossed it yesterday. He takes out his cell phone and makes a call. Minutes later he's pulling the Impala up outside her motel. It doesn't take long for his ears to locate her room.

"All year I've been training for this damn championship, and rats, goddamn oversize mutant rats, close the place down in the first week", Ruby's shrill voice rings across the parking lot. "Nothing like this EVER happened to me when I was dancing with Damien. You are just bad luck, Dean."

"If I'm such freakin bad luck then you know where to go, baby. Just boogie your sweet little ass back to Damien and his daddy's money. Like I give a damn", comes Dean's reply from inside the room, followed by Ruby's suitcase flying out the door.

"Oh, you're gonna be sooo sorry you said that, Dean Smith. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't've been in this damn competition anyways. Who else would put up with you? You... you flake!"

"Trust me, I can take my pick of the chicks any day, bitch", he retorts. "And I usually do."

"Jerk!", Ruby mutters, dragging her battered case and stumbling across the lot to the office, where Sam is standing beside his Impala waiting. A sweet smile lights up her lovely face when she sees him.

"Oh Sam, you came. Gonna give me a ride back home, honey? Looks like my 'chauffeur' kinda quit on me", she giggles, fluttering her eyelashes.

Sam considers the attractive little minx in front of him and shakes his head.

"Sorry, babe", he says. "It's not you I came back for."

Ruby shoots him an acid look and staggers on past into the office. Meanwhile Dean shuts up his motel room and swings his duffel bag onto his shoulder. He saunters over.

"Hi, man", he says. "Everything done?"

"Yeah", Sam replies wearily. "Another nasty goddamn infestation stamped the hell out. Just another day at the office, for a hunter."

"Sounds like fun", Dean remarks.

"Fun's not what I'd call it exactly. But it's a calling, I guess. "

"So how does someone get to be a 'hunter'?", Dean asks, leaning nonchalantly against Sam's car.

"Tragedy usually", Sam answers honestly. "Me, I was born to it. My dad was a hunter. It's the family business."

Dean smiles sadly. "Oh yeah? So I guess this is goodbye then?"

He holds out his hand for a shake. Sam takes it, shakes it, but he doesn't let go.

Dean grins. "Maybe you can give me a ride someplace?", he suggests. "Ruby can keep the wheels. It's a piece of crap anyways, not like this classic", and he pats Sam's Impala appreciatively.

Sam agrees, "OK Sure", then casually leans closer and does up three buttons on Dean's shirt.

They both climb into the Chevy. "So where you wanna go?", Sam asks, as he starts the engine.

"Anyplace you're going's peachy with me, Sam", Dean replies. "Take me someplace they've never heard of ballroom, and you can teach me to be a hunter", and he slides his hand onto Sam's thigh. "You can teach me anything you want. OK?"

Sam feels a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth. He's had a bellyful of hunting alone anyways. So why the hell not? Dean's fast, he's handy with a gun and he's, well, fit. Plus he's got that sexy damn smile...

"OK, Dean", he says. "Let's hit the road."

Who says a hunter can't have it all.

.oOo.

Later that night, Sam's sleep is interrupted by his cellphone. Reluctantly, he reaches over to the nightstand and picks it up.

"Yeah, Bobby", he sighs. "Whaddya want?", he adds curtly.

This irks the old hunter. "Hi there Sam. Glad to hear you too. Just wanted to check in after yesterday's rumble. See ifn you ready for another job yet."

Sam exhales slowly as he feels a hand snake around his waist from behind. He rolls onto his back.

"Figuring on taking a couple rest days, Bobby", he says. "Could use a little R&R right now."

Dean leans over him and plants his lips on Sam's mouth.

"Oh sure", Bobby replies. "Take as much time as you like. You deserve it. Thinking 'bout coming down my way for a stopover any time soon? Been a while since we had us some one-to-one time, boy."

Sam disengages his mouth from Dean's for a moment.

"Actually, Bobby, I was thinking of taking a little one-to-one time", he explains. "Only you're not the 'one'."

Bobby hears someone snicker quietly in the background.

"Oh yeah?", he chuckles knowingly. "Pick up some dancer chick, huh?"

"Not exactly", Sam replies with a satisfied smirk. "But you could say I picked up some new moves."

That leaves Bobby puzzled, but Dean reaches across and slides the phone from Sam's hand, snapping it shut and tossing it on the nightstand.

"You wanna learn some new moves, Sammy", he whispers seductively. "We can start with Queer Tango."

.oOo.

Yeah, my name is Bobby Singer and it's been my privilege to know the greatest hunter of them all. That Winchester guy is one goddamn hero, and the world would be a far scarier place without him.

But sometimes I think the world would be a damn sight safer if there were two of 'em.

The End

* * *

><p>AN: I seem to have a thing about competitive events. It's Bonfire Night tonight and fireworks are exploding all over the street. I've had my bangers and jacket potatoes and now I'm off to bed.


End file.
